


Happy Home

by SupernaturalFlavoredLollipop



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adventure, Amused Dean Winchester, Bobby SInger - Freeform, Bobby Singer's House, Dean Winchester Smut, Dean-Centric, F/M, Ghosts, Pirates, Romance, bobby singer foster daughter, dean and sam need help
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 15:31:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4569714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupernaturalFlavoredLollipop/pseuds/SupernaturalFlavoredLollipop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchesters call on the grown foster daughter of their old friend Bobby, to help them on a case involving a flirtatious pirate ghost. Returning to Bobby's house brings up old memories and older demons.</p><p>Request</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Home

“Sammy, is that her?” Dean peered out the window of Bobby Singer's dusty house. Sam stopped digging through the closet he was currently surrounded by boxes in, and turned to his brother.

 

“I don't know, Dean. I don't know her, either. But probably, since we called her and no one else knows we're here.” He looked around the house. It had been unlived in for the better part of four years. “And it doesn't look like anyone else has been here in a while.”

 

Dean had his gun ready, back to the wall, peering out the curtains into the night out at the salvage yard. A red El Camino drove up. “Jesus. She drives a fucking El Camino.”

 

“Like Garth?” Sam asked, amused.

 

“Let's hope that's all she has in common with Garth, or we're going to be hunting with a lightweight who loves Marmaduke and won't stop hugging people at weird times.” Dean frowned, returning his gaze to the front yard. A young woman got out of the car. She looked like she was in her late twenties. She looked around suspiciously, swinging a shotgun out of the car after her. “Good girl.” Dean whispered under his breath. He watched as she cautiously made her way up to the house. She had on ripped jeans and cowboy boots, a tight fitting grey thermal shirt under a green army jacket, and her long hair was black- he wasn't sure if the color was natural or not. Her eyes were rounded with heavy makeup, but the rest of her face was bare, giving her an unearthly, almost spooky, beauty.

 

She bounded up the front steps, pounded on the door, and stepped to the side of it for precaution. “Open up Winchesters. It's Y/N. And it's fucking freezing out here!” She shouted through the door.

 

Sam gave Dean a look and shrugged. “Guess it's her.” He strode to the front door, tucking a gun into his waistband, and opened it. The woman peered around the doorjamb at the two brothers.

 

“Which one are you?” She asked Sam.

 

“I'm Sam.” He introduced himself, letting his hand slip from the handle of his gun, and extending it for a handshake. “That's Dean.” The woman shook Sam's hand and looked past him to where Dean was hurriedly trying to conceal the gun he'd had trained on her while she'd been walking up.

 

“Fuck it.” He shrugged. “Precaution.” He walked up to her, shook her hand, and doused her with holy water.

 

“ _What the fuck_?” She wiped her face.

 

“Also precaution.”

 

“ _You_ called _me_.”

 

“We'd never met you before.” Dean held up his hands. “Needed to make sure you were really you.”

 

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine.” She set her shotgun just inside the door, and walked in, taking in her surroundings. “I haven't been in this place in years. Not since... right after Bobby got killed.” She turned to Sam. “It was you who called me, right?”

 

Sam nodded. “I found your number in his contact list. He'd talked about you from time to time, but, you know how Bobby was. We never got the full story and we were away from him for a few years.”

 

Y/N nodded. “Yeah. He kept things close to his vest.” She ran a hand through her hair, which he saw now was very obviously dyed blue-black. “I guess those were my years.”

 

Dean watched her closely. She was obviously familiar with the place. She made her way straight to the liquor cabinet, frowned, and closed it. Then she crossed the room and opened another cabinet, shuffling things around until she got to the very back. “This was where he kept the good stuff.”

 

“Bobby had good whiskey?” Dean raised his eyebrows. Y/N turned around, producing a bottle of thirty year old liquor, half full. Dean smiled. This woman _had_ lived here. He guessed that he and Sam weren't the only hunter's children that Bobby had ended up being foster dad for.

 

She poured three glasses, and sat down on the sofa, propping her feet on the coffee table. “So what did you all need me for, boys?”

 

Sam shot Dean a worried look, and they both sat. “Well, uh, we need help with a vengeful spirit.”

 

“You need help with a vengeful spirit?” She looked at them flatly. “The legendary Winchesters need help with a salt and burn? Please.”

 

“No, it's... weird.” Sam sighed. “We already burned his bones. We destroyed everything we can think of that could be keeping him here. There's only one thing that it could be, and we can't find it.”

 

“And you think I can find it?” She took another drink from her glass, swirling it around.

 

“Kind of. We need... a girl for the job.” Dean stated bluntly.

 

Y/N got a cold look on her face. “I don't know what you're trying to pull, but if this involves nudity, I'm out.”

 

“No, no, no! Not like that.” Dean backtracked really fast. This wasn't a great foot to get started off on. “This spirit... he won't deal with men. He's tried to kill Sam and I both a few times. But he loves women. He was a pirate, see, and he haunts a Maritime Museum in Connecticut. Turns out he likes saucy women.”

 

“I pretty much fit the bill there.” She slammed her drink down on the table, got up, and poured another.

 

“Yeah... I can tell.” Dean continued, intrigued by this hot mess of a woman who had just walked into their lives. “Sam figured out that whatever is keeping this guy, Thomas Redbeard McCall, here, is most likely in a buried treasure. We need to know where that is.”

 

“How the fuck am I supposed to talk a dead pirate into telling me where a buried treasure is so that you two can ace him? You don't think he knows that's what's keeping him here?” Y/N rolled her eyes and stared directly into Dean's green ones. “Handsome, I'm good, but I don't think I'm _that_ good.”

 

“According to Bobby, you're one of the best.” Sam stated. He'd been pretty much silent up until now, just taking in the scene.

 

“According to Bobby?” Y/N looked at Sam skeptically, but a tear had formed in her eye. “Bobby is dead. How would you know?”

 

Sam pulled out a journal. “He kept a lot of these. I refused to read anything about him and his wife, but the hunting, I read all of that. And there was a lot about you in there. Seems you already knew a lot when you showed up here.”

 

“What exactly does it say about me in there?” She looked at the book unhappily.

 

“Not much of a back story. Just that your parents were killed and you came here because of some unfortunate events. He didn't say much about it. I was actually wondering...” Sam looked at her, but seeing the guarded expression on her face and the way she slammed down the last of her second drink, he finished up with, “but it's none of my business.”

 

She stood. “No, it's not. But if Bobby thought you two were good enough to keep around, then you must be something special. So lets go gank this shitty pirate in Connecticut.” She waltzed to the stairs. “I'm sleeping in my old room. We'll leave at sun up. I only have two seats in my car, so I assume you're driving?” She turned back, shot a very obvious wink at Dean that made his heart jump in his chest, and made her way up to bed.

 

Dean watched her sashay up the stairs, then looked at Sam. “What the fuck did we get ourselves into Sammy?”

 

Sam shook his head. “I dunno, but if anyone can talk a pirate into telling where his loot is, it's probably going to be her.”

* * *

 

Late that night, you lay awake in your old room at Bobby Singer's house. For all intents and purposes, you considered him your foster father. You'd been taken from your real parents at a young age; they'd been drug dealers. You'd been placed with a loving couple who had raised you well and who you thought were totally normal until a demon crashed a house party when you were 13 and you saw your foster mom and dad whack him in front of you. After that, they'd sat you down, and it turned out your whole foster family were hunters. They trained you, but they never let you hunt. It was agreed that since you were a ward of the state, they would teach you everything they knew, but you would NOT set foot on a hunt until you were 18. You agreed.

 

When you were 16, they'd gone on a hunting trip. After a few days, you began to worry. After a few more, you got the call. They'd been killed by vampires in Chattanooga. Try as they might, your foster parent's mother and father couldn't keep custody of you- it was decided that you'd go back to your biological parents.

 

This had turned out worse, because as it turned out, they weren't clean and sober, and they hit you. A lot. Fortunately, you knew how to defend yourself. Unfortunately, you had nowhere to go. You couldn't go back to your foster grandparents- the authorities would find you. So you were gone, into the wind, and went the one place no one would look. To a kindly middle aged man who you knew your foster parents had trusted with their lives. Bobby Singer.

 

He'd brought charges against your parents and gotten you emancipated, housed you, fed you, clothed you, made you go to school even though you didn't want to. He'd also trained you to hunt, even though he'd have really preferred college for you. He'd spoken often of the Winchesters. When you'd lived here, Sam had just gone off to college and Dean had been running around the country with John. You figured you were a little younger than Sam but not much.

 

You turned sleeplessly to face the wall. When that call had come, four years ago, from Sam, your world had fallen apart. He'd been nothing but kind on the phone, even offering to come find you. But you'd told him no, you were fine. And you'd made your way, as you always did. But now here you were, back at Bobby's.

 

The ties that bind were tight.

 

You closed your eyes, willing yourself to sleep so you'd be ready for the long drive to Connecticut in the morning with the Winchesters.

 


End file.
